


cherries

by resurrectdead



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Chaotic Good, Falling In Love, Family Fluff, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Kid Fic, M/M, Nanny Harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-07
Updated: 2019-12-07
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:54:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21703297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/resurrectdead/pseuds/resurrectdead
Summary: ”You’re- the nanny?”Louis’ picture of a nanny, prior to calling in, honestly, had been like that lady he used to see on the telly with a pedantic knot of hair, tiny glasses and a suit reading don’t-even-think-about-it.His picture of this guy from his phone call… he hadn’t quite had the time to picture. But it certainly wasn’t wavy, perfectly-groomed chestnut hair and high-waisted trousers with the shirt tucked in.or: louis is a chaotic dad with chaotic twins and is in immense need of a nanny
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Comments: 11
Kudos: 250





	cherries

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sunshine_louie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sunshine_louie/gifts).



> This is for my gf who talked about chaotic kid fics and I was like, yeah, I could do that :] enjoy some dumbassery!

One of the twins is hanging upside down in her pyjamas when he’s grabbing his phone and googling the number of the service. Anyone, jesus fucking _Christ_ , literally _anyone_ would do (who's not a murderer or the like, maybe someone who, like, puts _milk_ in their _tea_. That'd be a pretty equal dealbreaker to be fair). 

The other one of the twins is being lulled silent in his lap - for landing flat on her silly face when trying to help her sister in dire need while hanging upside down in her pyjamas - when the dial tone stops and Louis perks up, hopeful, staring out over his mess of a kitchen. 

_”Hello,"_ drawls the voice on the other end. _”Thank you for calling. This is Harry.”_

”Hey, mate,” Louis starts just as the other twin, he swears, although vaguely, starts _chewing on his shoelace_ from where she’s planted by his feet on the rug, and may he add they're _four years old_ , ”I’m in… a bit of a hassle.” 

Cleo fusses in his lap and he studies her for any bruising from the mighty fall, but she’s just a master of getting attention. This is simply because her father - him himself; deep bow, applause, curtain - is excellent teaching her such techniques. Drama queens, the whole bunch of them, all three of the household.

Well, _four_ , but Clifford the enormous labradoodle is quite well-behaved. 

”Listen,” Louis tries again, brow furrowed in concentration. ”This is the nanny service, yeah?”

 _”Indeed.”_ The nanny (can nannies be called Harry?) seems to click a pen. Louis jiggles his leg impatiently, an act doubling in bouncing Cleo and warding off Darcey from digesting his entire shoe. _”What seems to be... the hassle?”_

”Well, you know.” Louis drifts off as Darcey appears to have given up on his shoelace started crawling determinedly up the kitchen cabinet instead. ”The usual. Listen. I’ve got twins and a short attention span. _When_ can you be over?” 

Harry is over quicker than Louis could have expected and he’s only just managed to put a single frying pan into his sink. He greets him with Cleo still leaned on his arm and holding a coffee cup by his pinky with the hand he manages to jerk the handle down with in a not-very-graceful flop of a motion. 

The door opens to a slit and Louis glances up to see _locks of brown hair._

It must be Harry who looks back at him through the crack, with utmost apprehension. There’s a moment when they just sort of, _stare._

Harry pops his lips with a frown, his voice friendly but cautious. ”Hi?”

”You’re- the _nanny?_ ”

Louis’ picture of a nanny, prior to calling in, honestly, had been like that lady he used to see on the telly with a pedantic knot of hair, tiny glasses and a suit reading don’t-even- _think_ -about-it. 

His picture of this guy from his phone call… he hadn’t quite had the time to picture. But it certainly wasn’t wavy, perfectly-groomed chestnut hair and high-waisted trousers with the shirt tucked in. 

”I am,” Harry says, smiling. ”Hi, I’m Harry. You must be Louis.”

Louis nods eagerly. Louis forgets to open the door. 

Harry squints. ”Are you- _decent?_ ”

”I’m never decent,” Louis murmurs back automatically and nudges the door open the rest of the way with his foot. ”But I’m dressed alright, if that’s what you mean. I’m fucking _Batman_ today.”

Harry frowns at his language (Louis can only assume, as it seems that normal, _functional_ people tend to think it inappropriate) and then more at his yellow shirt logo. 

”Oh! They’re used to it. I mean-” Louis raises his eyebrows and looks between Cleo and Harry. ”Well, first impressions and all- No? Okay.” He speaks into his coffee cup before taking a swig. _”What the fuck is going on?”_

Harry, to his surprise, snorts a laugh a this. What’s even more peculiar, when he puts his cup down heavily on the little table next to the bowl of keys after a big, steadying gulp of morning (he knows perfectly well it's _noon_ ) caffeine, he notices Harry absolutely _beaming_ at Cleo, already past the initial scandal. Louis, dishevelled enough as it is, is extremely thankful for that.

”Ah,” Louis starts proudly, ”alright Cleo, manners now, do better than your daddy.” He gestures for her tiny hand to shake Harry’s by making his own like a t-rex one. ”This is _Harry_. He’s your nanny I told you about,” he explains educationally, ”remember?”

Cleo’s eyes grow big with glee as Harry waves with all fingers at her. ” _Hanny!_ ”

She grabs his pinky to shake, and nobody can correct a bloody adorable child. What can he say, he’s got good genes, or summat. 

”She’s shy,” he comments off-handedly. ”She does speak, believe it or not, although, sometimes I have my good reasons to believe I was handed down these two by _aliens_.”

”What are the reasons?” Harry asks far too genuinely, and he can’t tell if jokes go right over his head of curly hair or if he’s just weird like that. 

”I’m sure you’ll find out sooner or later.”

Clifford glares at Nanny Harry from under the table. Louis glares back for a second, as if he’s his impolite son too (no but, he _is_ his son) before he moves to usher Harry inside. 

”Welp, come on in then, lad,” Louis says and bumps the door with his hip, letting it click shut. ”Let me show you around me house.”

”Thank you kindly,” says Harry, and Louis notices large rings on equally large hands when he takes his coat off.

”You can just hang that wherever,” he gestures around the entirety of the room, ”or like, lay it down. Whatever floats your boat.”

He admits it’s a full-blown dad-sigh when he puts Cleo down on the floor to let her trod off into the lounge space where Darcey is building with tiny colourful blocks. 

”So, that was me Cleo, that,” Louis introduces as Harry begins taking off his boots. ”And we’ve got— Mate, there’s really no need. You see the state of this?”

Harry throws his hair back like a rockstar when he straightens up again, white cowboy-like boots neatly placed next to each other on the rugged door mat. ”I see it,” Harry muses, hands behind his back now. ”I acknowledge. And I… _challenge_ it.”

Louis cocks a brow. ”Oh?” He studies him. ”So you’re, like, Marie Kondo.”

”Yeah,” Harry says airily and easily, like that’s, an _idea_. Not necessarily a _good_ one. He glances down at Louis' shirt again. ”And you’re _fucking_ Batman?”

Louis splutters. ”No, I-” He pulls on his shirt despite himself. ”I am. _Am_ fucking Batman.” 

He points dumbly. Harry hums. He also grins, and Louis can’t help himself from chuckling. That’s- kind of _ridiculous_. 

”Just joking,” Harry says. ”I’m not child services, you know.”

”Yeah. Yeah I… I reckoned as much.”

”Meaning,” he continues, ”I promise I’m just here to check on your kids.” Harry notices Clifford under the table then. He squeals. ”And look at the dog!”

Louis smiles so genuinely when Harry hurries over to kneel by the enormous labradoodle. Funny, that. 

He can’t tell if the giddiness in his tummy right then is nerves over showing a random service person this hellish state of a house, or maybe, whatever. Harry the Nanny is just a funny guy, is all. 

”What I meant to say,” Harry tries again while petting Clifford sagely on the head, ”is it’s fine to be nervous. It’s alright.”

”But you don’t bite unless I ask you to, and all that?”

”Something like that,” Harry replies quietly, seemingly focused on letting Clifford sniff his hand. ”Am I _accepted?_ ” He looks up at Louis with wide eyes. ”Does he _accept_ me?”

”He’s got like 2 brain cells,” Louis sighs, leaning forward to check on his kids through the doorway. Nobody’s plotting how to steal the Mona Lisa yet, so that’s a positive. ”He’ll accept you as long as you give him treats.”

Harry smiles in relief at this, and Louis returns it. At least he can reassure the poor lad. Can’t be easy taking care of little monsters in houses looking like something close to rubbish bins for a living, can it? 

Neither is accepting strangers into your living conditions being that, Louis adds to himself as he worries the sleeves on his jumper hanging far below his wrists. _Liam_ is usually the one watching his kids when Louis is off to work, but _Liam_ has a stupid vacation. Unheard of for single dads, that. Louis’ the only working class hero around here. 

”He just wants to be the only _curly_ one,” he adds when he notices he’s been staring at the back of Harry’s head. 

”Jealousy something that runs in the family?”

”Well, _you_ said it, not _me_.” Louis crosses his arms. "Nothing contagious."

He lets Harry take his time petting Clifford goodbye, then encourages him with a small gesture to step into the lounge. 

Harry takes in the scene (which isn’t much, or at least not much more than a sofa and a TV next to the crate of toys and all of the toys and games and DVDs spilled beside that) before he walks cautiously over to Cleo and Darcey. He sits down behind them, watching as they play. 

”Hiya, girls,” he says kindly during a pause in their babbling commentary. ”Is the café open?”

”It’s not a café,” Cleo giggles, slapping her pudgy legs. 

”Oh!” Harry slaps his cheeks in return, aghast. ”My mistake. Are you just dining?”

Darcey nods, invested in staring down at what she’s playing with, or maybe just showing off her blonde hair being in the totally perfect ponytail Louis made her. But Cleo presents him with a plate and a tiny plastic piece of pink cake, which Harry takes politely. 

”Thank you, Cleo!” he says happily as she shyly grins and turns back. He fake-eats it while looking over at the other twin. 

”Now, that’s _Darcey_ ,” Louis introduces when Darcey pours herself an empty cup of tea. ”And, she’s not quite as _giving_ , it seems.”

That’s when Darcey gives Harry the _whole teapot_ and ushers a cup over to go with it, grinning just the same. She sips from her cup as Harry nods his thanks, mouth full of pretend-cake. 

Louis’ heart swells. 

When Louis gets back from work shift that evening, Harry’s got lipstick applied on his mouth and chin as if someone drew outside the lines of their colouring book. 

Louis sees it in the dim light from outside as Harry sneaks quietly into the hallway where Louis' been toeing his sneakers off next to Harry’s pristinely white boots, the simple act prolonged as he’s too distracted by studying his flushed face. It becomes the first time in the last seven hours that he _smiles_. 

”Rough night?” he asks as Harry stops in front of him, a coy grin smeared on his face alongside the bright red lipstick. He seems to sparkle, and Louis vaguely recalls the twins getting some sort of little glitter tube in a princess magazine. 

”Nah,” Harry assures, genuinely, a furrow in his brow to prove it. ”We had really fun. What about you?”

Louis makes an indecisive noise. It’s unimportant. "Blink-182 is singing _work sucks, I know_ in my head," he replies, and Harry chuckles. ”It’s been _alright._ Are they wiped out?”

”Just fell asleep.” He says it in a tone of finding something very adorable, which is odd when it’s 11pm and both their work shifts only just ended. Louis would be nothing but wiped out himself. ”I read them a story.”

”Thumbelina?”

”Yeah,” Harry says, smiling still with a glimmer in his eyes. ”They wanted to make sure she was fine when the toad stole her away.”

”And then that she was fine when she floated off on that _flower pedal._ ”

”And then the _mouse_ … and the _mole_ …” Harry shakes his head, frowning. ”A lot of people really want to marry her.”

”And by the end, they wanted you to read it again?”

Harry chuckles. He nods. ”But I suspect they already knew.”

”From like, 328 readings worth of knowledge,” Louis confirms, scratching his hair as he nods and stares at his socks. ”Well. _Thank you_ , for doing that for them.” 

He stands back up, a smile he can’t fight on his entire face.

Harry only seems to mirror it. ”Hey. No problem.” He points to the kitchen suddenly. ”Uh. I saved you some dinner?”

”No way.

” _Yeah way._ It’s in the fridge.” He furrows his brow in a way Louis has come to notice he does quite a bit. ”I hope you don’t, like, mind. I did have to _feed_ them.”

”That’s so absolutely fine,” Louis says, sounding ever so slightly breathless. 

There’s a few moments that pass when Louis just kind of looks at him, something so easy about smiling at someone and getting it in return. 

”You can leave now, you know,” he mumbles eventually, ”if you wanna.”

It seems to him Harry’s eyes grow slightly larger, like Louis said something out of the ordinary, which he’s not sure he had. Like whatever it was was just that much enticing. 

And in the quiet of the night, in the dim room with the glitter and the lipstick and the neatly placed white boots, Louis surprises himself with how _beautiful_ he thinks Harry looks right now. 

”Yeah,” he says though, clearing his throat a little as he reaches for his coat. ”I guess. But, it has been fun.”

”That’s great. You’re very welcome back,” Louis tells him when he steps into his boots. ”I mean, kinda _have_ to. You’ll be hired, and stuff. But at least they didn’t traumatize you.”

”Oh, no. The opposite. Except when Darcey tried to like, grate the cheese and I thought she’d grate her fingers too.”

”Happens to the best of us.”

”I suppose it does.”

Harry lingers at the door, and Louis realises he’s blocking the way. He takes a step to the side at the same time as Harry takes one forward. 

There’s a strange moment when they meet eyes, almost touching. 

Then Harry’s hand is on the door handle and Louis is backing up against the wall, noticing his heart in his chest. It’s, _there_. But it’s, like, _really there_. 

He wonders, faintly, why he feels like he has _butterflies_ in his stomach all of a sudden. 

Harry turns back around then, making Louis’ heart jolt, but he meets his eyes only at a fleeting glance. ”Bye, Clifford,” he says instead, waving to the gigantic dog wagging his tail in the entrance to the kitchen. ”See you tomorrow.”

”Bye,” Louis answers for him. ”Oh, you don’t wanna wash that off?” 

Harry stops outside the crack in the door, just as when he had first entered. ”It’s an _artwork_ ,” he retorts, _scandalised_. He smiles again. ”Bye-bye.” 

”See you.”

When the door closes and Harry has disappeared into the chill air of the late summer night, Louis waits a few seconds before he locks it. He’s utterly unsure what he waits for. He checks out the peephole in the door, but Harry’s figure has already disappeared down the stairs. 

He looks inside the sleeping kids’ room (their nightlight properly on and the book back on its shelf with two content kids in each their tiny beds) before he collapses in the sofa in the lounge. He contemplates his life choices, and the sudden surge of _warmth_ that’s entered his chest. 

It’s so calm and quiet as he sits lost in his thoughts, he almost startles when he gets a text. He startles even more when he sees it’s from the contact he’s saved as _Hanny_ , Hanny the nanny. 

_Hanny: I love your d_

Louis’ heart jolts as he stares at his phone. 

_Hanny: Dog_  
_Hanny: It didn’t send_  
_Hanny: I love your dog_

Louis releases the breath he didn’t quite realise he was holding. But he sneers, shaking his head. 

_Hanny: I wrote it and it didn’t send_

It turns to smearing a hand over his face and chuckling. The panic. The utter gay panic of it all. 

_Louis: I also love your d..._  
_Louis: dapper way of dressing_  
_Louis: great boots_  
_Louis: i’ll see you tomorrow :)_

He gets up to find homemade lasagna in the fridge neatly wrapped in plastic and waiting just for him. 

”How are my cherries?”

Louis stops in his closing-of-the-door and ogles. ” _Cherries?_ ”

”Because they come in _pairs_ ,” Harry explains, matter-of-factly, hanging his coat on a spare hook. ”And, _Cleo_ starts with a _C_.”

Louis hums. He closes the door and watches Harry take off his boots, another pair than when he was first here almost a week ago. He's sported around three so far, each more outstanding than the first.

”What about Clifford? It starts with a C.”

Harry glances at the dog, eyeing him still with slight suspicion as he chews his toy that lost its squeaking noise long ago. ”I don’t think he likes me _that_ much.”

”He liked you _instantly_ ,” Louis defends, affronted a _child of his_ could ever have anything against his friend. No less Hanny the Nanny. (No less Harry the very attractive guy that sometimes comes to his house because Louis must be getting some _good karma_ for sometimes he does not remember doing _very_ well.)

”You think so?” Harry asks, eyes large with hope. 

Louis grimaces, shrugs. ”Meh,” he says with a seesaw motion of his hand. ”I mean, you know, who knows. Jealousy and that.”

Harry pouts at him, and Louis, in turn, melts into a puddle. 

_"But,”_ he interjects, quickly recovering, ”you like _him_.” Louis scratches him behind the ear and his long tongue flops out. ”That’s quite enough.”

”Yeah,” Harry says in a strange tone, petting Clifford on his long back. ”I suppose.”

Louis looks up at him. But Darcey and Cleo come hollering into the room then, throwing themselves at Harry’s legs. Louis left them to their own devices only like, four minutes ago, yet they’ve already managed to do hairstyles and are currently demanding that Cleo is The Beast, Darcey is Gaston, so Harry simply _has_ to be Belle. 

”Are we going to get _married?”_ Harry asks with astonishment to Cleo, who giggles brightly, shyly squirming. 

”Hey now, you plan to steal Harry all to yourself, do you now?” Louis asks with a smirk, leaning against the wall watching them tug Harry towards a pile of tiaras and theatrical clothes. 

”Yeah!” Cleo squeals evilly, forgetting to pull for a moment to instead look closely at the disarray of silver rings covering Harry’s fingers, and then she looks closely at his sparkly nail varnish instead, eyes round with awe. 

”Really now?” Louis cocks a brow. ”Not too chuffed about that, if I’m honest. Darcey, you’ll steal him back for me, won’t you?”

Darcey is sliding on her socks as she pulls Harry down for his clothes fitting by her very own force. ”Okay, dad!” 

"There's that jealousy", Harry acknowledges beneath the uproar.

Louis smiles, not quite finding ways to express how _happy_ this makes him to see. He’s never seen someone bond so well with his little precious maniacs before, and it fills his chest with enough love for what he’s seeing, it might just burst. 

Also, he swears he’s not only just dreaming when Harry turns his head back toward him to mouth another secret reply at him. 

_All yours._

Louis’ stomach does an involuntary little flippy-over thing. Harry sits down cross-legged on the floor with the girls, and doesn’t look back again. 

It feels oddly like he’s had his last night of coming home to bread for dinner and lukewarm vodka for bed. Harry’s smile alone will keep him warm all through winter. 

”Listen, Liam,” Louis starts around a mouthful of toast, phone propped to his ear by his elbow as he puts a jug of juice down for Darcey and Cleo each. ”I was thinking, why don’t you take a vacation for a bit _longer?_ ”

Darcey digs her spoon into her bowl of the cereal utterly lacking _milk_ as Louis almost _topples over_ himself reaching the bottle over and pouring some into it. 

”I know you’re home now, lad, you did just talk for ten full minutes about Ibiza,” he continues, grabbing his phone in his hand and pouring the same for Cleo with the other. ”I’m not that thick, believe it or not, yeah, yeah.”

”Dad?” Darcey tries, and Louis holds a finger up then ruffles her hair as he passes her quickly. 

”Well you know, thing is.” He pours Clifford’s food and it clatters into his bowl. ”This nanny thing is kind of sick and all, I think I just want to try it. Some _more_.” 

Finally he sits down, buttering himself a second toast before he pulls his coffee cup towards himself, only to realise it empty. 

”Listen, man, I’ll talk to you later. Real life is calling. I’ll text you, alright? Okay. See you.” 

He puts the phone down and gets up to get his turkish press. 

”What did you say, Darce?”

”Will Hanny come back more?”

Louis smiles despite himself as he reaches over the table to pour his coffee into the cup. Liam was supposed to be back on babysitting duties as soon as he returned from his vacation, but Louis _pulled some strings_ to prolong it. Meaning, he let Liam off duty for caring for tiny maniac alien creatures. At least Harry _likes_ playing dress-up. 

(At least, it’s likely Harry _is_ an _alien_ too.)

”Yeah, for a while,” he tells them and puts the press back onto the stove. ”Is that okay?”

”Yeah!” Darcey agrees in unison with Cleo, who splashes milk in excitement. 

”Yeah?” Louis says, chucking. He sinks back down in his chair and munches his toast. ”Bored of old uncle Liam, are we?”

He’s just checking, to be honest, because God knows there’s no course for how to be a dad and let alone a single one, so he thinks the least he can do is just, _talk to them._ At least they haven't kicked him out yet. Would be unfortunate. 

But Cleo nods eagerly too, just as Darcey is.

”We really like Hanny,” she says, earnestly. 

He looks up from the now-soggy bread and notices her smile, making him smile even bigger in return. 

”Yeah,” he says, ”we all do.” 

He pops the remaining piece into his mouth and gets up to pack a backpack for their picnic today. It’s the joy of night shifts, after all.

When he kicks his sneakers off by the door later that night, he greets the silence with relief. The bustling of the outside world is still ringing in his ears as he tip-toes into the lounge. 

He steps over a single toy left in the hall, and looks up just to see two adorable kids passed out serenely on each side of Harry, who’s currently looking up from his phone with _lipstick_ on again, face lit up with a dull blue glow. Clifford is lying by his feet, clearly no hate in his body, and Louis notices he's been given a _bone_ he's cherishing with happy chewing.

Harry, whose smile is somehow even more prominent when enhanced by the striking red, is directing all the kindness from within him at nobody but Louis, slowly falling apart at the seams in the doorway. 

His heart buzzes with energy once more. 

”It looks better this time,” he comments, his voice in a whisper. 

Harry fully grins and carefully pockets his phone. ”I did it myself,” he basically just mouths, the whisper so quiet, while pointing at himself wildly like it’s a Vegas neon sign in contrast. 

”Okay,” Louis wheezes back, doing excessive thumbs up to match him. 

He saunters into the lounge and sits down on the arm of the sofa. He smiles down at Darcey, a curl of hair across her forehead, and he brushes it silently out of her face. He looks up at Harry, curls sprouting in all directions, and erupts in a smile. 

Louis pulls back, because maybe, _maybe,_ he could have curled one strand of dark hair around his finger and let it slip softly out of his hand. He could have touched his face, traced the angle of his sharp jaw and brushed his thumb against his lips. 

_Damn_ it. _Damn_ those butterflies. When did they move into his stomach and why are they not paying any bloody _rent?_

Harry, now plainly unphased, gestures to pick the kids up. And Louis, grateful for his quick recovery, shrugs, then moves from his seat next to him to get one of them for him. Because it could be kind of humanly impossible to even try and carry both at the same time. He's tried. A few times. Only Liam is a true Batman enough for that shit.

It’s also a quite peculiar act to pick up a tiny sleeping human without waking them, but he thinks he’s just about mastered the art after four whole years of practice. However, _distractions_ such as _Harry Styles_ aren’t part of the usual agenda. And that’s just really not _fair._

When he scoops his hands carefully under Darcey’s back and head, he makes the mistake of tilting his head up slightly, and he’s _so_ close to Harry.

And Harry’s just watching him, silently. Maybe he’s just checking what to do. 

Maybe he checks that by looking directly into Louis’ eyes. And flicking his gaze down momentarily to his lips. 

But then, somehow, Louis carries Darcey as she snores softly into his chest, and after them, Harry carries Cleo, limp and calm. Louis notices a headband with dog ears discarded on the table as they move slowly into the bedroom. He doesn’t even _ask._

They put them down on their respective beds - and Louis is only mildly surprised when Harry reaches him first at switching on the nightlight - before they both shift silently towards the doorway. 

Harry exits the room first as Louis catches the door behind himself and starts slowly pulling it closed, anticipation building in his stomach as he waits for it to _creak_. To do _anything_ , fall off its _hinges_ or something, just to ruin the still moment. Why does it feel so strange? What is he waiting for? Why is he holding his breath? 

And he keeps thinking about Harry. Stillness behind him. Heart in his throat, the lipstick enters his mind. Red and bold. Shiny. Soft lips, soft hair, warm and real. 

Nothing but a tiny _click_ is heard as the door shuts into place. 

He turns around, and suddenly Harry is _kissing him_. 

Louis can’t help the muffled sound of surprise that leaves him, staring at Harry’s closed eyes, furrowed brows, tasting the gloss. Then he melts into it. _Oh my fucking god_ , Harry is _kissing_ him. 

Then Harry is breaking away, then Harry’s backing up until he hits the wall behind him, shock on his face. Lips glistening. Pupils wide. 

He covers his mouth with his hand. _”I’m-”_

He starts to say something, but Louis doesn’t care. He shakes his head, takes his hand to the side. 

And he stands on his toes as he kisses him again.

And this time, nobody lets go. 

It’s when he’s got a hand curled in Harry’s hair, and Harry’s large hand is splayed on the small of his back and he feels his foot link around the back of his heel. It’s _then_ , that he hears a _gasp_ from behind them. 

Yeah, not in _front_ of him. _So_. 

He tears away and spins around at the speed of lightning. Two giggling girls are covering their mouths in the entrance to their room. 

” _Why_ are you awake?” he instantly demands, but he must sound _funny_ , because they just giggle louder. He’s not even sure if he’s embarrassed or- okay, yeah, maybe a bit. A maybe _big bit_. He narrows his eyes at them. ”I thought we put you two to bed, silly little _shits_.”

Harry instantly slaps his arm, and the giggles only intensify. Louis shakes his head and tuts, masking the mortifying _embarrassment_ feeling just as good as a cold rag being rung out in his chest. 

”Alright, let’s go back to bed,” he sighs and starts ushering them away. ”And what’s so _funny_ , huh?”

They look at each other mischievously, plotting like twins do. 

”Are you gonna get _married?”_ Darcey asks him, looking up at him with her big, blue eyes. 

He stops, dumbfounded. 

”What?”

”Will Harry be our dad too?” Cleo asks, and she’s smiling just like it’s Christmas morning. 

Louis looks up at Harry, smirking back at him. 

”That’s,” he says, shooing her over the doorstep, a distinct blush creeping up his neck, ”a conversation for another time, I think.”

Just as he’s gotten them to start climbing back into bed, Harry leans into the doorway and announces in a too-obvious wheeze: ”We’ll look for your bridesmaids dresses tomorrow.”

Louis glares at him over his shoulder, Harry winks at him, but for some reason he already has erupted in a large smile. 

”We’ll _discuss_ that,” Louis reminds him, fake-sternly, and tucks in their duvets, his smile never quite leaving. 

And it never quite does leave, because neither does Harry. For a few nights at a time maybe, but mostly, he finds his bed being warmed up on particularly cold nights from then on. Until one day, Harry comes back with the remaining part of his belongings - clothes, toiletries, an oven glove he apparently particularly liked - and he never does leave again. 

And one day, they really _do_ go look for bridesmaid dresses, all in very adorably small sizes which makes both of them _coo_ , squeezing each other’s hand as they browse the pastel colours. And then the rings, and the cake. The kisses and I do. _I do._

It’s just all those _damn butterflies._

**Author's Note:**

> WORK SUX, I KNOW  
> I think I finally succeeded at making something a semi short one-shot. [insert jonathan van ness Can you believe?] Also I got into this fandom screeching over kid fics and it made me genuinely consider becoming a pre-school teacher (I mean, I even applied to the full 3 year course but not as the first hand choice so I didn't get in, but ok) but I've never actually had experiences with nanny/babysitter services and literally never babysat kids apart from like hanging with my little cousin so please excuse my dumbassery if I wrote something nonsensical! bUt I think all of it really is.  
> Thanks for reading <3


End file.
